Search Results
7/7/2025, 3:51:58 AM
Your authoritative voice slices through the crowd as you utter only a single word, “Thang.”
The word is loud enough that all have heard, silence overtakes the free-flowing conversations and drowns them in its grasp. Like a young starlet, the crowd is focused upon you alone, waiting with bated breath to see your very next action. Your blunted sword hangs from a limp arm and scores lines in the dirt. Like a parting sea, the crowd of onlookers breaks before you and the human, avoiding interruption of the challenge. Thang watches you as the onlookers remove themselves from the spectacle to encircle you and him. There is no light in Thang’s eyes, no sign of an emotional spark, they are pools of dark brown as impassive fortifications of old.
You continue, “Let us continue where we left off.”
Your heart thumps violent beats. As soon as your first word has left your mouth, your body begins to pump adrenaline through your system, preparing you for this showdown. The world moves with a belated pace, slowing down so you can drink in every detail. Memories of your defeat at his hand replays again and again in your mind like a broken holoprojector. Within your mouth, your jaw clenches and fingers try to crush your sword’s hilt, while a growing fire burns within, turning into an inferno of rage. Each strike of his blade, every condescending jibe and every single irritating personality flaw that you’ve been acutely sensitive to.
“Vulfstahn, it has been a while. Have you forgotten what happened last time? I remember you scurry off, cradling a wound.” Thang flashes a smirk that reaches only as far as his lips. His blade slices through the air, whistling as it carves through an imagined foe.
Taking a step closer to eat at the gulf, you reply with controlled and even tone, “Times change, allow me to show you.”
“The time it would take for you to get anywhere close to my skill would require the very mountains to be swallowed back into the earth.” You do not reply, you didn’t challenge him to trade insults. You did it to show him and your classmates that you are the best.
Thang stands with his controlled and poised Makashi stance mirroring the coldness of his heart. While your stance is anything but calm, you stand ready to pounce like a spring depressed to near breaking point, prepared to explode at him. Lord Thane watches from the mass; he, too, is whipped up in the spectacle, allowing this violence to produce someone worthy of his attention. The crowd contains all other familiar faces of all your fellow students wearing different expressions, ranging from concern written over Yira’s visage to a gleeful smile from Murl. Most see both you and Thang as a similar breed and would be happy for both of your downfalls.
The word is loud enough that all have heard, silence overtakes the free-flowing conversations and drowns them in its grasp. Like a young starlet, the crowd is focused upon you alone, waiting with bated breath to see your very next action. Your blunted sword hangs from a limp arm and scores lines in the dirt. Like a parting sea, the crowd of onlookers breaks before you and the human, avoiding interruption of the challenge. Thang watches you as the onlookers remove themselves from the spectacle to encircle you and him. There is no light in Thang’s eyes, no sign of an emotional spark, they are pools of dark brown as impassive fortifications of old.
You continue, “Let us continue where we left off.”
Your heart thumps violent beats. As soon as your first word has left your mouth, your body begins to pump adrenaline through your system, preparing you for this showdown. The world moves with a belated pace, slowing down so you can drink in every detail. Memories of your defeat at his hand replays again and again in your mind like a broken holoprojector. Within your mouth, your jaw clenches and fingers try to crush your sword’s hilt, while a growing fire burns within, turning into an inferno of rage. Each strike of his blade, every condescending jibe and every single irritating personality flaw that you’ve been acutely sensitive to.
“Vulfstahn, it has been a while. Have you forgotten what happened last time? I remember you scurry off, cradling a wound.” Thang flashes a smirk that reaches only as far as his lips. His blade slices through the air, whistling as it carves through an imagined foe.
Taking a step closer to eat at the gulf, you reply with controlled and even tone, “Times change, allow me to show you.”
“The time it would take for you to get anywhere close to my skill would require the very mountains to be swallowed back into the earth.” You do not reply, you didn’t challenge him to trade insults. You did it to show him and your classmates that you are the best.
Thang stands with his controlled and poised Makashi stance mirroring the coldness of his heart. While your stance is anything but calm, you stand ready to pounce like a spring depressed to near breaking point, prepared to explode at him. Lord Thane watches from the mass; he, too, is whipped up in the spectacle, allowing this violence to produce someone worthy of his attention. The crowd contains all other familiar faces of all your fellow students wearing different expressions, ranging from concern written over Yira’s visage to a gleeful smile from Murl. Most see both you and Thang as a similar breed and would be happy for both of your downfalls.
ID: DS96m0gw/qst/6254402#6270913
7/7/2025, 3:48:53 AM
Your authoritative voice slices through the crowd as you utter only a single word, “Thang.”
The word is loud enough that all have heard, silence overtakes the free-flowing conversations and drowns them in its grasp. Like a young starlet, the crowd is focused upon you alone, waiting with bated breath to see your very next action. Your blunted sword hangs from a limp arm and scores lines in the dirt. Like a parting sea, the crowd of onlookers breaks before you and the human, avoiding interruption of the challenge. Thang watches you as the onlookers remove themselves from the spectacle to encircle you and him. There is no light in Thang’s eyes, no sign of an emotional spark, they are pools of dark brown as impassive fortifications of old.
You continue, “Let us continue where we left off.”
Your heart thumps violent beats. As soon as your first word has left your mouth, your body begins to pump adrenaline through your system, preparing you for this showdown. The world moves with a belated pace, slowing down so you can drink in every detail. Memories of your defeat at his hand replays again and again in your mind like a broken holoprojector. Within your mouth, your jaw clenches and fingers try to crush your sword’s hilt, while a growing fire burns within, turning into an inferno of rage. Each strike of his blade, every condescending jibe and every single irritating personality flaw that you’ve been acutely sensitive to.
“Vulfstahn, it has been a while. Have you forgotten what happened last time? I remember you scurry off, cradling a wound.” Thang flashes a smirk that reaches only as far as his lips. His blade slices through the air, whistling as it carves through an imagined foe.
Taking a step closer to eat at the gulf, you reply with controlled and even tone, “Times change, allow me to show you.”
“The time it would take for you to get anywhere close to my skill would require the very mountains to be swallowed back into the earth.” You do not reply, you didn’t challenge him to trade insults. You did it to show him and your classmates that you are the best.
Thang stands with his controlled and poised Makashi stance mirroring the coldness of his heart. While your stance is anything but calm, you stand ready to pounce like a spring depressed to near breaking point, prepared to explode at him. Lord Thane watches from the mass; he, too, is whipped up in the spectacle, allowing this violence to produce someone worthy of his attention. The crowd contains all other familiar faces of all your fellow students wearing different expressions, ranging from concern written over Yira’s visage to a gleeful smile from Murl. Most see both you and Thang as a similar breed and would be happy for both of your downfalls.
The word is loud enough that all have heard, silence overtakes the free-flowing conversations and drowns them in its grasp. Like a young starlet, the crowd is focused upon you alone, waiting with bated breath to see your very next action. Your blunted sword hangs from a limp arm and scores lines in the dirt. Like a parting sea, the crowd of onlookers breaks before you and the human, avoiding interruption of the challenge. Thang watches you as the onlookers remove themselves from the spectacle to encircle you and him. There is no light in Thang’s eyes, no sign of an emotional spark, they are pools of dark brown as impassive fortifications of old.
You continue, “Let us continue where we left off.”
Your heart thumps violent beats. As soon as your first word has left your mouth, your body begins to pump adrenaline through your system, preparing you for this showdown. The world moves with a belated pace, slowing down so you can drink in every detail. Memories of your defeat at his hand replays again and again in your mind like a broken holoprojector. Within your mouth, your jaw clenches and fingers try to crush your sword’s hilt, while a growing fire burns within, turning into an inferno of rage. Each strike of his blade, every condescending jibe and every single irritating personality flaw that you’ve been acutely sensitive to.
“Vulfstahn, it has been a while. Have you forgotten what happened last time? I remember you scurry off, cradling a wound.” Thang flashes a smirk that reaches only as far as his lips. His blade slices through the air, whistling as it carves through an imagined foe.
Taking a step closer to eat at the gulf, you reply with controlled and even tone, “Times change, allow me to show you.”
“The time it would take for you to get anywhere close to my skill would require the very mountains to be swallowed back into the earth.” You do not reply, you didn’t challenge him to trade insults. You did it to show him and your classmates that you are the best.
Thang stands with his controlled and poised Makashi stance mirroring the coldness of his heart. While your stance is anything but calm, you stand ready to pounce like a spring depressed to near breaking point, prepared to explode at him. Lord Thane watches from the mass; he, too, is whipped up in the spectacle, allowing this violence to produce someone worthy of his attention. The crowd contains all other familiar faces of all your fellow students wearing different expressions, ranging from concern written over Yira’s visage to a gleeful smile from Murl. Most see both you and Thang as a similar breed and would be happy for both of your downfalls.
Page 1